by Nydam, Anne
Instead, she turned back to Mr Salceda and said cheerfully, “Hello, sir, I’m Polly Goggin. Pleased to meet you!” She stuck out her hand to shake, and her fingertips brushed the cage. The light sparked and spat, and Polly yelped and pulled her hand back hastily.
Chen thought that “pleased” was not really the word he’d have chosen to describe how he felt about this meeting, but Mr Salceda replied, “You’re right, Miss Goggin. These are not the ideal circumstances for getting to know each other.” He turned to the boy behind him. “Matias, run up and get me the phase focus and the Tunisian Oculus, please.”
“But Uncle Tobal, I thought you weren’t going to disenchant the thieves until right before the police arrive.”
“I don’t think the police will be necessary, Matias. Go on, get me the instruments and we’ll sort this whole thing out.”
“Okay, you’re the boss.” The boy shrugged and loped back upstairs again, still two steps at a time, but this time without any urgency.
XIV. Traps and Doors
Now that he and Polly were no longer imprisoned behind glowing bars of sizzling magical light, Chen could get a better look at Tobal Salceda. He looked a little older than Chen’s parents, tall, with sharp elbows, a sharp olive-skinned face, sharp eyes, and a mop of tousled hair that was getting thin at the top. The boy, Matias, who had perched himself on the fat, wide arm of the couch, looked very similar, except that his hair was blacker, his cheeks were rosier, and he wore glasses.
Uber had wriggled out of Polly’s arms as soon as the cage had disappeared, and was now crouched under the sturdy coffee table, tail twitching ferociously and ears laid back against her head. She was conducting a staring contest with the creature perched at the top of the bookshelf, which Chen could now see was some kind of falcon.
Matias said, “Is there going to be blood here? Fur and feathers flying?”
Tobal observed Uber and the falcon closely for a moment and then shook his head. “They’ll be fine,” he said. “Now let’s talk about my Book.” Chen clutched the Dragon Book tightly to his chest with both arms. Tobal continued, “The Extraordinary Book of Doors was stolen from me. You say you were not the thieves, so how do you come to have it?”
So Chen explained how he had found it under the park bench beside the lagoon at the Museum of Art. “My mom looked for it on the International Database of Art Loss, but it wasn’t listed stolen or missing.”
“I’m just a poor, simple wizard; I don’t know anything about international art databases. So, you found my Book and you didn’t know where it came from, so you’ve been having fun going on adventures, is that it?”
“Not exactly fun!” Chen retorted, “There’s a murderous disturbingly-nondescript magician-thief after us! He locked us up to his lady-sawing device, but we escaped with the help of a crystal ball, and he stole Polly’s Book – twice, actually – and beat her with a big knobby cane, and now he’s after us to get this Book, too, because he’s got a sinister master plan to steal priceless art treasures all over the world and win some professional stage magic competition!”
Even as he spoke, Chen saw Matias Salceda’s dubious expression and realized just how silly his story sounded. A mortified blush rose up his cheeks.
“It’s true,” Polly said stoutly, “Look; I’ve got all these bruises from him, see?”
Tobal merely said mildly, “Polly has a Book of Doors, too?”
“There are three Books that we know of,” Polly explained, “Mine isn’t really mine, either. We call it the Wreath Book. It belonged to Benjamin Franklin. The thief, Mr Ammon Blank, has an Ornate Book that he stole from somewhere else, but now he has the Wreath Book, too. And he’s been chasing us down trying to get the Dragon Book. He wants all three so that nothing will stand in the way of his sinister master plan.”
“I see. Well, the first thing you need to do is put the key back onto the cover of the Book.”
“What? Why?” Chen demanded suspiciously.
“Because as long as the key is put away, the portals to this Book from the other two Books will be locked.”
“You mean all this time we wouldn’t have needed to worry about him popping out at us if we’d just replaced the keys on the spines?”
“Indeed. So replace the key, please, and then we can figure out the situation without fear of interruption from… What was it, a murderous nondescript magician-thief?”
Chen slowly relaxed his hold on the Book and laid it on his knees, spine upwards. Feeling rather like when his trumpet teacher asked him to play a difficult passage he knew he hadn’t practiced enough, he laid the key on the Book and felt for the place where it would slip into nothingness beneath his fingers. It took him several seconds, which felt like several minutes with everybody watching him, but finally the key was only a stamped gold image once again, and he opened his eyes and looked up.
“Not bad,” said the wizard, “You two have done a pretty good job of figuring out the Books without any training.”
Polly blurted eagerly, “So what are the Books? Where did they come from? Why were they made? How many of them are there?”
“You want the history lesson?” Tobal said, smiling, “I’ll try to keep it brief.”
His nephew Matias murmured, “Oh boy. Here we go!” He slid down the arm of the couch onto the seat cushion, making an elaborate show of settling himself comfortably as if to take a nap. He grinned at Chen. Uber, apparently satisfied that the falcon was not an immediate threat, came out from beneath the coffee table and sniffed at everyone’s knees as Tobal began to speak.
“The story really begins before the Books themselves, in the winter of 1525 when French King Francis I was captured by his bitter rival Charles V, Holy Roman Emperor and king of Spain. Francis’s sister Marguerite Queen of Navarre set off bravely on horseback through the snowy forests, desperately riding twelve hours a day for days on end in order to meet a critical deadline in the negotiations for her brother’s release. She barely made it, but she saved him. After that Francis was on the lookout for an easier, less perilous way to ensure his escape should he ever be captured again.
“It wasn’t until 1540 that he saw his opportunity. He hired Italian architect Sebastiano Serlio to help design his new palace at Fontainebleau. You see, Serlio was not just an architect but a wizard. Francis and Marguerite commissioned him to construct a magical doorway at Fontainebleau that would be capable of transporting Francis back to his own palace from any other location. This Serlio did.
“However, Marguerite, who was a poet and a great lover of books, came up with a further idea. Some time after the original doorway, she set Serlio to work making an extraordinary Book of doors, each page of which would contain a portal. Serlio was to make two copies of the Book, one for Marguerite and one for her brother Francis. While he was at it, he made one for himself, too.
“But as you can imagine, making these Books was no easy task. Nothing like it had ever been attempted before. For each doorway a safe or useful location had to be selected, and the woodcut designed, carved, and printed just right to combine and balance accuracy with the requirements of the magic. In order to anchor the portal, the real location had to be visited, or a significant core of the doorway had to be brought to Serlio in his workshop so that the magic could be bound between the woodcut illustration and the actual locus in space where the portal was to connect. And Serlio had to make three copies each of the thirty doors he selected as the most likely to be useful for the king of France, plus the portals to link the Books to each other. With such a complex and powerful magical project it’s not surprising that the Books weren’t completed in time. King Francis died in 1547, and Marguerite died in 1549, just before Serlio could present her with the finished Books. Her copy, which you’re calling the Wreath Book, went into the library at Fontainebleau, where it was soon forgotten.
“The copy that was to be Francis’s went instead to his son King Francis II, who seems not to have recognized or been told about its magical prop
erties. His wife gave it to her daughter-in-law Mary, Queen of Scots, who might have made good use of it if she’d only had the wits or wisdom to see its possibilities. In her family the Book was passed down, along with the habit of poor judgment, until eventually they both came to Charles II of England. He presented the Book in 1661 to architect Christopher Wren in acknowledgment of the founding of The Royal Society. I believe you’re calling that copy the Ornate Book.
“Now, Christopher Wren was something of a wizard himself, and realized that his gift was no ordinary book. He showed the Ornate Book to his fellow scientist and dabbler in wizardry Benjamin Franklin when Franklin was in London. Franklin, in researching his friend’s Book, discovered the existence of the forgotten Wreath Book, and set about seeking it out for himself when he lived in France some years later.
“And finally, the Dragon Book, the copy which Sebastiano Serlio kept for himself. You’ll notice that the dragon on the cover forms the letter S for Serlio. And Salceda, I might add. At Serlio’s death in 1554, this Book became the property of his apprentice in magic, who passed it down to his own apprentice, and so on, in a continuous line of wizards until I inherited it from my own teacher three years ago. This Book, having always been in the possession of wizards, has the most doors added. As you’ve discovered, I added my own door, which brought you here today.
“But three weeks ago my Book was stolen. I wasn’t anxious to leave my home wide open to the thief any time he chose to walk through my woodcut door, so I set a trap to capture anyone who came through the portal. A very cleverly-designed and elegantly executed trap, though I say so myself. I should probably write up a report on it for the Lake Erie Chapter of the World Thaumaturgical Society.”
“I don’t think we care about that, Uncle Tobal,” interrupted Matias, “You say you live somewhere around here, Polly and, uh, what’s your name?”
“I’m Chen Connelly. Polly’s from near Boston, but I live in Cleveland Heights and my parents work at the art museum. And they’re probably pretty mad at me right now since they’ll have been expecting me since lunch time. Can I use your phone, please?”
“I’ll take you there myself,” Tobal announced. “It’s not far at all. Come on, let’s go. We’ll talk a little more about the Books and this thief in the car. I want to hear everything you can tell me about him. I need to know whether I should still be worrying about him now that I’ve got my Book back.”
“What about Uber?” asked Polly.
“You’re not bringing her back into the museum,” Chen said flatly.
Tobal glanced back at the falcon and the cat. “She and Emrys seem to be fine with each other, but I’d better make sure she stays in the front hall where there isn’t anything for her to get into trouble with.”
Polly gathered up Uber and brought her into the hall, while Mr Salceda pulled glass-paned French doors across the openings into the other rooms. He pulled another screen across the stairs, but Chen thought it looked oddly transparent and couldn’t help suspecting that, unlike the others, it was not made of real glass and wood. He wondered what would happen if Uber touched it, but he shrugged and followed Matias out the front door.
Once they were all settled in Mr Salceda’s car, Matias looked back over his shoulder from the front seat and said, “So, Chen, your parents work at the art museum? You must know all kinds of cool behind-the-scenes stuff.”
“Some. Like how most of the art isn’t even on display, and they rotate things in and out so you can’t always see the same pieces. But I definitely don’t know everything yet, because we’ve only been here since the beginning of the summer.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize you were new here. What school will you go to?”
“Roxboro.”
“Me, too! Where do you live?”
It gave Chen a small pang to have to say the address that still didn’t sound like home to him, but upon hearing it Matias got even more excited.
“That’s Evan’s street! You must have met Evan, right?”
“I met him last weekend.” Chen paused to think of something conversational he could add. “Er, he’s really good at basketball, isn’t he?”
“Yeah, we’re both on the middle school team. Do you play?”
Chen shook his head.
“You should try out, it’s really fun. But I guess it’s easier if you’re taller. Still, basketball isn’t Evan’s only thing, you know.” Chen must have looked slightly dubious because Matias grinned. “I promise you, there isn’t much Evan doesn’t know about animals. He’s a regular St Francis. He’s got like thirty pets at his house. All sorts: dogs, lizards, finches, gerbils, turtles, even a big, fat raccoon called Slam Dunk. His mom’s a certified wildlife rehabilitator. Some time I’ll take you over there. He’d be happy to show you if you’re interested.”
“Yeah, definitely. But how come he didn’t say anything about that when we were talking?”
“Well, some kids think it’s pretty weird to have all those animals. He used to get teased about it, called Doctor Dolittle and stuff, so he doesn’t like to mention it with people he doesn’t know too well. To tell the truth, he doesn’t like being called St Francis, either, but I can get away with it ‘cause we’ve been friends since before kindergarten. I live right around the corner from him.” Matias laughed. “I guess I live right around the corner from you!”
Chen digested this for a moment, realizing that all the time he’d been feeling shy, worrying that Evan thought he was weird, Evan must have been feeling shy and worrying that Chen would think he was weird. And this reminded Chen of all the worst-case scenarios he’d imagined might occur if he introduced himself to the boy around the corner… the boy who turned out to be Matias. Chen grinned.
Polly, however, interrupted impatiently, “Excuse me, but before you start planning your friendly neighborhood block party maybe we could figure out how we’re going to save the magic Books from Mr Ammon Blank and find Benjamin Franklin’s secret treasure.”
“What?” exclaimed Mr Salceda, so forcefully that he made the car jerk. He faced forward again. “Benjamin Franklin’s secret treasure?”
Polly actually looked embarrassed, something Chen hadn’t believed possible in a girl who always wore a hip pouch with a rubber ducky on it. “Whoops. I may have said too much. I hadn’t meant to mention that just yet.”
But Chen was suddenly feeling more optimistic than usual. He said, “Come on, Polly. We need help. We’ve got to tell them everything we know, so we can come up with a plan all together.”
She nodded. “I guess you’re right. But the money still goes to Raphael. That’s not negotiable.”
When Chen arrived with the others at the Department of Prints and Rare Books, Robin Burr jumped up to greet him.
“Chen! Where have you been? We were starting to get worried!”
“Sorry, Mom. I guess I just got… distracted by everything we were doing. You’ll never guess who I met though! This is Matias – the kid who lives in the blue house around the corner from us.”
Dr Connelly raised an eyebrow and suppressed a smirk. Chen knew his father was tempted to make some comment about evil cable salesmen and cannibal cults. Chen hastily continued with the introductions.
When everyone had smiled politely, Mr Salceda said, “Matias has been staying with me this week while his parents are out of town, and we wanted to invite Chen to have dinner with us this evening, and sleep over tonight. Here’s my address and phone number. I know it’s abrupt, but I hope it’s okay; they got started on a project they wanted more time to work on.”
Robin Burr took Tobal’s card and looked at it hesitantly. Chen could tell she was trying to buy time. She was worried that Chen would be uncomfortable with someone he’d only just met. She was probably uncomfortable about it herself.
“Can I please, Mom?” he said earnestly, hoping to assure her that he was happy about this plan. “You wanted me to get to know people.”
“You don’t have anything else you need to do to
night?” she asked meaningfully.
“Nothing I can’t do tomorrow instead.”
She glanced at Dr Connelly. He shrugged imperceptibly. “Well then, I suppose that would be fine. When will you be home?”
Tobal said, “I can bring him back here to the museum tomorrow morning if that’s convenient. I was thinking we might spend some time here this evening ourselves since the museum’s open late tonight. And we can swing by your house if there’s anything Chen wants to pick up there. We’ll definitely give you a call if plans change for any reason.”
Dr Burr nodded. “Okay. Here’s the key to the house in case you stop by before we get home. Don’t forget to call if there’s any problem. Have fun, Chen.”
“Thanks, Mom. We will!” As they left the office, Chen glanced at Polly. “At least I hope that wasn’t a lie,” he muttered, “But will it really be fun to chase after a murderous nondescript magician-thief? It sounds more like reckless and potentially painful than fun.”
Polly grinned at him. “Are you kidding? A treasure hunt through magical portals? That’s definitely fun!”
Matias grinned, too, and gave Polly a high-five, which she returned with a look of mild astonishment. Chen wondered whether anyone had ever high-fived her before.
Tobal turned to Polly and said, “Shouldn’t you be calling your parents, too?”
Polly shrugged. “My mom probably hasn’t even gotten home and noticed I’m gone yet. And if I talk to her I’ll have to explain why I’m in Cleveland. I think I’ll just wait 'til I get home and then tell her.”
Tobal looked doubtful, but said, “I’ll have you call later this evening, if we don’t get you home by then. I really think your mother will want to know where you are.”
When they got back to Mr Salceda’s house, Matias made sandwiches for everyone, and they sat down once again in the living room to eat their belated lunch and plan their campaign.
“Okay,” Matias began, “This shouldn’t be too hard. We portal through to the rest of the Franklin clues, finish the treasure hunt, and collect the cash. Next we portal through to one of the missing Books and grab it, then we portal through to the other and grab that, too. Then we order pizza.” He beamed cheerfully around the coffee table. “Does everyone else like pepperoni and roasted red peppers?”